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Four matching growls make my lips split into a wide grin as I take another bite, the chocolate peanut flavor not too shabby as it hits my tastebuds.
“You’re such a fucking brat, do you know that, Dove?” Aeron snarls, though with little heat as he bends to pick up the bar closest to him and tears the packet open like it mortally offended him.
“Thanks, Nightingale,” Jude whispers softly as he picks his snack up and looks at the packet. “Ohhhh, banoffee. My favorite.” His face lights up as he opens the packet and he lets out a small sexy moan when he takes his first bite. I almost fucking choke on the bite of bar as it goes down my throat, and Jude just gives me a smolder, the fucker.
Tarl and Knox follow suit, giving me glares but eating anyway. They know as well as I do that we need to keep our strength up. The sound of us munching is all that we can hear for a while, and once I finish, I take the water and gulp down a good swallow before replacing the cap.
“You best not be thinking about throwing that over. Doc gave us another, so we’ve all had some,” Aeron informs me gruffly, preempting my plan to share. “Plus, you need to take the pain meds he left for you.”
I look to where there is a pile of stuff near where the bars and water were, to see a box of ibuprofen as well as what looks like a packet of wipes, some clothes, and a box of sanitary pads.
“Doc had to stitch you, Nightingale,” Jude says softly, and I take a deep inhale as a twinge in my pussy lets me know exactly where my stitches are. “He left you some things to keep the area clean.”
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Baby Devil. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do this.” I just can’t take their pity, not on top of the fresh wave of memories and the agony that Dean’s violence has left behind. I don’t say it, but it might not be the only time that they watch someone force themselves on me, not if what Rufus says is any sign.
“I… We don’t pity you, Little Bird,” Knox assures me, but I can’t look at any of them as tears hover on my lashes, threatening to fall. I’m so fucking sick of crying. “You are the bravest fucking person I’ve ever met, and your strength is one of the things I love about you.”
Wetness spills down my cheeks then, a sob sounding in my chest as the box in my mind cracks open just a little.
“Look at me,Eshgham,” Tarl orders, his tone offering no alternative. My head turns, and the sight of him wavers as more tears fall. “We will make sure that his blood flows out of his body in the slowest, most painful way. We will make his entrails become his ex-trails all while he watches and as he begs for death. And we will deny him the grim reaper until he’s felt every ounce of pain he inflicted upon you tenfold.”
His declaration should scare me, should have me running for the fucking hills. But I was ruined long before I met the Tailors, and so instead, it fills me with a warm sense of satisfaction as I hold Tarl’s mismatched gaze. His eyes burn me like the best possible fire, the type that helps you to sleep at night and chases all the monsters away, leaving nothing but the stench of burning evil behind.
I give him a smile that I’m sure looks scary as fuck if his returning one is anything to go by, but pride shines in his eyes, relief at my acceptance of his crazy, and the happiness at finding out your soulmate really is the other half of you. Or I guess in my case, the other quarter of me. Maybe fifth? I was always shit at math.
“Deal,” I agree, my voice only a little croaky now. “So, what have you guys been doing for fun around here?”
“Nothing much, just watching you sleep mostly, Nightingale,” Jude answers, and I let out a small laugh, then wince as it pulls my ribs.
“That’s not creepy at all, Baby Devil,” I tell him, watching as his brow furrows.
“I always watch you when you’re asleep, Nightingale. It helps me to relax.” And fuck if that isn’t one of the sweetest, only slightly fucked up things anyone has ever said to me.
“Does your father bug this space, Dove?” Aeron asks out of the blue.
“I don’t think so, not usually anyway, and he hadn’t installed cameras last time I was here,” I reply, turning my head to look around at the corners and seeing no cameras. “He’s not big on technology, a bit of a technophobe, really.”
“Unsurprising given his inability to move with the times and bring the Soldiers into the twenty-first century,” Tarl muses, and I look at him in question.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the Soldiers have been peddling the same drugs and prostitutes for the past twenty years, ever since their creation. They’ve not added to their portfolio or branched out. I think it’s partly why there’s been such animosity with the Tailors, as we’ve diversified, moved with the times, and embraced new technologies to enable us to move forwards and upwards,” Tarl says, and I consider his words, finding them to be true. To some, applying business terminology to gang economy is a wild idea, but why the fuck not? It also makes one side of my mouth lift, the idea that my Tailors are business leaders of sorts.
My sperm donor is stuck in his ways, unable to let go of anything or to move with the times. Plus, he’s always had a hand in the most unsavory enterprises; cutting drugs and targeting vulnerable women to work on the streets. There’s no honor in what the Soldiers do, just pain and suffering.
“Why did you ask about the cameras and bugs, Aeron?”
“Doc let us come to you when he looked after you,” he tells me, and I have a vague memory of my hands being held, of whispered words, a song from Cinderella, and soft kisses before the drugs took me under. “He told us that my father was on his way. That we need to stay put. I don’t think he would have done any of that if he wasn’t sure that we weren’t being spied upon, but I wanted to check for myself.”
“Doc is a Tailor?” I ask, my eyes widening as I take in his words. I mean, it makes a sort of sense given how kind Doc has always been to me, which would be unheard of if he was a true Soldier. How he seemed to disapprove of my treatment here, even if he did nothing to help me or stop it. I take a steadying breath at all the information he has on me, all of the times he’s patched me up after some Soldier or another roughed me up too much. I swallow hard at that information being passed on to Adam Taylor.
“What’s wrong, Little Bird?” Knox asks, and I blink, bringing the room back into focus.
“Doc’s been with us for years. He’s looked after me since…since my mother’s death, helped me on so many occasions that I’ve lost count.” I stare into his good eye, seeing the realization tighten his jaw, his knuckles going white as he clutches the bars.
“And he didn’t help to get you out.” It’s not a question, rather a growl and a promise of retribution. I narrow my eyes, shaking my head a little as a vague memory escapes the box in my mind.
“I–I think he did. Or he used to try at least when he first started treating me.” A memory of him coming when I must have only been thirteen flits through my mind. One Soldier had given me an STI, and I needed treatment. I was so embarrassed, and he was so kind, checking me over, noting every bruise and hurt on my young body, assuring me there was nothing to be ashamed of. “I remember him telling me that if I ever needed a way out, he could help me. H–he said he had connections, but I told him I couldn’t leave without Rook. That I’d promised to take him away. He told Rufus that he needed to get his boys checked before they h–had me, and as far as I know, Rufus stuck to that. His one kindness because I was his daughter, or so that’s what he told me.”
